Read Online Against the Tide by Nikki Groom - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nikki Groom
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better.”
“Okay,” I relent quietly. “Okay.”
Kyle lets me up and hands me a towel. I eye him wearily and wrap it around my waist as he holds out his arm, signalling for me to go to the bathroom. He follows closely behind me and I feel like an inmate in a prison under watch.
“I’m okay, man. I’m not going to do a runner.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.” He turns to walk back to the bedroom. “Kyle?” I call out croakily.
“Yeah,” he stops and answers.
“I’m sorry, man. About, you know, trying to hit you and …”
“Already forgotten.” He waves his hand dismissively. “You just get your butt in that shower and come out sweeter than y’are now.”
I nod and enter the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I turn on the shower to warm up and run the water in the sink to have a shave. Jesus, the amount of stubble that has grown could probably be classed as a beard, it’s that long. I’ve never let it grow like this before. I don’t like it, it itches like a bitch and ages me by at least ten years. There are black rings around my eyes and my cheekbones are more pronounced due to my recent lifestyle and lack of appetite. I’ve lost a fair amount of weight, mostly from my chest and stomach area and I look ill. Kyle is right. I’m not doing myself any favours by wallowing. I brace my hands on either side of the sink and bow my head. Lizzie would be downright ashamed of me and what I’ve turned in to. Hell, I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind. Trying to keep drugs as far away from her as possible, hating that her life was taken by a chemical I’ve taken many times before and since she died. Being everything I taught her not to be and everything she strived to stay away from. Surely this isn’t what she would have wanted. Surely I should be doing everything I can to make her proud. And my mum. Oh god. My poor mum, she’s lost not only her precious daughter but she probably feels like she’s lost me too. She almost has.
After shaving, I step in the shower and it feels amazing. I’m pretty sure I have showered over the last few weeks but then again, I don’t remember much since Lizzie’s funeral. Whether it’s my mind’s way of blanking out all the shitty things I’ve done or the fact that I’ve taken so many drugs and necked enough vodka to drown a ship, I’m not entirely sure. The ball of a hundred different emotions is still there, the craving to reach for a bottle is as big as it ever has been over the last few weeks, but the thought that I might be harming my sister’s memory, and what may be the last of my mum’s days, weeks or months digs away at my conscience until I feel a piece that hasn’t been numbed by the drugs. I find a little crack in the barrier I have put up over my feelings and emotions, which means that I do actually have something to live for, don’t I?
“Hey! You look almost normal,” Kyle chuckles as I enter the kitchen. “Feel better after that?”
I shrug, feeling ashamed. This is the first time I have had to face one of my mates sober. I know over the last couple of weeks, I’ve either been asleep or wasted, so it’s been easy to avoid them. “I know that my head hurts like a motherfucker.”
“Yeah, well, I expect it will take a couple of days for that to settle down,” he replies, shoving a cup of coffee in my hands and sliding two painkillers across the worktop. “Get that down.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, knocking them back. “Harley at work?”
“Yeah, he went in early. Called me to say you finally came home and he didn’t know what to do with you next.”
“Oh,” I say quietly, staring in to my coffee cup and avoiding eye contact with him.
“Look, Finn. No one blames you for going off the deep end, okay? We care about you like a brother. So what you feel, we feel. You feel me?” he says softly with one raised brow.
“There’s a lot of feeling going on around here,” I joke.
He holds his hands up, “Hey, not been feeling you up
“Okay,” I relent quietly. “Okay.”
Kyle lets me up and hands me a towel. I eye him wearily and wrap it around my waist as he holds out his arm, signalling for me to go to the bathroom. He follows closely behind me and I feel like an inmate in a prison under watch.
“I’m okay, man. I’m not going to do a runner.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.” He turns to walk back to the bedroom. “Kyle?” I call out croakily.
“Yeah,” he stops and answers.
“I’m sorry, man. About, you know, trying to hit you and …”
“Already forgotten.” He waves his hand dismissively. “You just get your butt in that shower and come out sweeter than y’are now.”
I nod and enter the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I turn on the shower to warm up and run the water in the sink to have a shave. Jesus, the amount of stubble that has grown could probably be classed as a beard, it’s that long. I’ve never let it grow like this before. I don’t like it, it itches like a bitch and ages me by at least ten years. There are black rings around my eyes and my cheekbones are more pronounced due to my recent lifestyle and lack of appetite. I’ve lost a fair amount of weight, mostly from my chest and stomach area and I look ill. Kyle is right. I’m not doing myself any favours by wallowing. I brace my hands on either side of the sink and bow my head. Lizzie would be downright ashamed of me and what I’ve turned in to. Hell, I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind. Trying to keep drugs as far away from her as possible, hating that her life was taken by a chemical I’ve taken many times before and since she died. Being everything I taught her not to be and everything she strived to stay away from. Surely this isn’t what she would have wanted. Surely I should be doing everything I can to make her proud. And my mum. Oh god. My poor mum, she’s lost not only her precious daughter but she probably feels like she’s lost me too. She almost has.
After shaving, I step in the shower and it feels amazing. I’m pretty sure I have showered over the last few weeks but then again, I don’t remember much since Lizzie’s funeral. Whether it’s my mind’s way of blanking out all the shitty things I’ve done or the fact that I’ve taken so many drugs and necked enough vodka to drown a ship, I’m not entirely sure. The ball of a hundred different emotions is still there, the craving to reach for a bottle is as big as it ever has been over the last few weeks, but the thought that I might be harming my sister’s memory, and what may be the last of my mum’s days, weeks or months digs away at my conscience until I feel a piece that hasn’t been numbed by the drugs. I find a little crack in the barrier I have put up over my feelings and emotions, which means that I do actually have something to live for, don’t I?
“Hey! You look almost normal,” Kyle chuckles as I enter the kitchen. “Feel better after that?”
I shrug, feeling ashamed. This is the first time I have had to face one of my mates sober. I know over the last couple of weeks, I’ve either been asleep or wasted, so it’s been easy to avoid them. “I know that my head hurts like a motherfucker.”
“Yeah, well, I expect it will take a couple of days for that to settle down,” he replies, shoving a cup of coffee in my hands and sliding two painkillers across the worktop. “Get that down.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, knocking them back. “Harley at work?”
“Yeah, he went in early. Called me to say you finally came home and he didn’t know what to do with you next.”
“Oh,” I say quietly, staring in to my coffee cup and avoiding eye contact with him.
“Look, Finn. No one blames you for going off the deep end, okay? We care about you like a brother. So what you feel, we feel. You feel me?” he says softly with one raised brow.
“There’s a lot of feeling going on around here,” I joke.
He holds his hands up, “Hey, not been feeling you up
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